Why Is It So Hard to Meditate?

Well, it’s about that time of the year when those fresh and shiny New Year’s resolutions begin to fade and fail. Maybe some of yours included exercising more, practicing gratitude every morning … and meditating.

If practicing meditation/mindfulness made it onto your 2022 goals list (I'm not a fan of resolutions but I am a big advocate for goal-setting), chances are you’ve tried it in the past and it’s helped. Either that or you’ve read about the many mental and physical health benefits of meditating and you’re intrigued: Why notbring something into your life that can help with basically everything? The point is, you know it’s good for you—and yet, you have such a hard time practicing it. You are not alone. A lot of people (myself at times included) feel this way. Why is that?

Mindfulness and meditation have been much talked about and studied concepts in the Western world for several decades now. There has been fascinating research on the multifaceted benefits of meditating—from helping people cope with chronic pain and illness to helping individuals manage anxiety or depression and improve focus, attention, and efficiency (among many more benefits). At this point, most of us are, if not acutely, at least somewhat aware of the benefits of meditating. 

While there are studies that show that there has been an increase in the number of people who say they have meditated (in results published in 2017, the Center for Health Statistics found that the number of people who had meditated in the last year increased from 4.1% in 2012 to 14.2% in 2017), statistics for how many people maintain a regular meditation practice are harder to come by.

Anecdotally, speaking from my own experience and that of my colleagues and fellow meditators, having and sticking to a regular meditation practice is more than a bit of a challenge. I know since I started meditating in 2014, I have had times where I had a regular practice and where I fell away from consistent practice, despite me fully knowing and having experienced firsthand its benefit on my well-being. 

So here comes the conundrum. We know it’s good for us. Science corroborates. We may have even felt the benefit of meditating in our own lives (I know I have in a very big way). Why, then, aren’t more of us meditating regularly? Why do we find it so hard and what can we do to address those barriers? 

I recently polled my Instagram followers, asking them if they have a regular meditation practice and what gets in their way of practicing. In response, 37% said they did have a regular practice, which is higher than I expected. There were a lot of responses—many of them repeated by several people—as to what is acting as a barrier. Here is a sampling of what people said gets in their way of meditating: “anxiety, impatience, life, to-do list, it just doesn’t work for me, lack of time, falling asleep, all the thoughts of things undone.”

Why are we having such a hard time doing something shown to be so good for us? And how can we address those barriers to get our tushy on the cushy, so to speak.

1. Meditating is hard

Sitting with ourselves without distraction is not an easy task, especially for those of us dealing with physical or emotional pain (which, when taken together, is a significant proportion of the population). It takes bravery to meditate. Sitting for meditation involves a willingness to be present for the emotional pain that may surface- difficult thoughts, beliefs, memories, as well as noticing, with far fewer distractions, any physical pain that may be present. 

The antidote? Mental preparation and an underpinning of gentleness with ourselves. Mentally preparing ourselves in advance that meditating can and often does feel quite hard may be what helps us overcome this barrier. If we set up realistic expectations ahead of time—that meditating isn’t meant to be a conduit to relaxation or sleep, but is actually hard work—we may be more likely to create a sustainable practice. We do this when we want to attack other hard or taxing projects, such as exercising or preparing for a big work project. We don’t tell ourselves that we are about to levitate and relax. Rather, we gear up for the sustained effort.

Similarly, we've got to do this to set up realistic ideas of meditation, but always with gentleness as a cushion. Remind yourself that you don’t need to formally sit to meditate, and it doesn’t have to be for long. You can bring mindfulness to literally anything and everything you are already doing- by participating in a different, more present kind of way. Try using the word “mindfulness” if the word “meditation” feels too daunting or repelling.

Part of the gentle mental preparation is reassuring yourself and giving yourself permission to take care of yourself should anything too painful surface. Remind yourself that you will not be rigid with yourself (this will inevitably act as a barrier towards meditating). While there is little right or wrong in meditating (it's not prescribed in that way), acting with self-compassion is always right. 

2. Competing demands on your time

We have many competing demands on our time that, if we're honest with ourselves, are way more enticing. For those of us who have meditated, inevitably, during our practice, we will find ourselves immersed in all the thoughts of what we must get done as soon as we’re done practicing. The laundry, booking that getaway, and returning those emails are just a few examples of the to-do list that popped up for me just this morning. This can be a frustrating experience, sitting and feeling like we are doing nothing as we acknowledge how much is waiting for us.

In an increasingly busy life, justifying and allowing ourselves to take precious time to sit and be and not do can act as a barrier. Not only that but contrary to many popular ideas about meditation leading us to enlightenment, sometimes it can be incredibly boring. Though I can have interesting insights while I’m meditating, I often find myself wondering, “When will this damn meditation be over?” at least once per meditation session (even the short ones), followed by a relieved mental “hallelujah!” when the timer goes off. 

So what’s the antidote?

Read about the benefits of meditating. Connect to podcasts or science journals that discuss its many benefits (I do both). I know when I listen to my favorite podcast, the 10% Happier Podcast, on a more regular basis, hearing about all the interesting and scientific benefits of meditating, I am definitely more likely to meditate.

3. Lots of misinformation

They are still out there all around us—the numerous falsehoods that exist about meditating. Here are a few that I often hear: I’m not the meditating type. I can’t meditate because I have ADHD. I just don’t have the time. I can’t sit for that long. You name it, the false belief is out there. You may have even had these thoughts yourself at some time or another. 

As a fix, not that anything is a quick fix but to give you accurate information about meditation, let me debunk some of them for you: Anyone can meditate. For any period of time. You don’t have to sit, and you can practice informally as well as formally. You can practice mindfulness as you are kneading the dough for the bread or going for a walk. Though the best way is to find a balance between formal meditation and informal meditation, they are both valid and helpful ways to meditate. 

When we pay attention to what is holding us back, we are more likely to move forward. Read that sentence one more time and let it sink in. We can apply this not just to meditation, but to anything. But that's a post for another time. 

Pause here for a second and ask yourself: Why are you having a hard time with a consistent practice? And what can you do about it? This isn’t to say meditation is for everyone or you need to meditate. But it may very well be worthwhile to spend a moment pondering—meditating, if you will—about what is getting in your way. And what will you do to address those barriers? 

Leah Katz Ph.D. Here We Are Why I Broke Up with My Scale

Research suggests that as much as 80% of women struggle with poor body image, and 70% of women who are at healthy weights want to be thinner. Body image trouble can lead to a host of other difficulties, such as depression, anxiety, and eating disorders.

Source: 'Vidmir Raic/Pixabay'

In my clinical practice, I see repeatedly how harsh many of the women and teenagers I work with are with their bodies, but this article is about my own journey with body image and weight. I always assumed I had a sound body image.I felt good about myself, kept active, and maintained a healthy BMI. I knew several family members and friends who suffered from different forms of eating disorders, and I felt grateful to have fallen on the other side of the fence, having not developed one myself.

However, I had a rude awakening about how harsh my own thoughts could be towards my body while I was on my first ever meditation retreat a few years ago. Although I didn’t have any observable signs of poor body image, I carried an overwhelming amount of discreet negative thoughts directed at my appearance.

I noticed the onslaught of negative thinking I had in response to walking past a mirror. I didn’t focus on my face, my eyes, or my smile, and instead got so picky with myself. Why do I have pimples and the start of wrinkles at 30? Oh my, when did my thighs get so huge? I really shouldn’t have worn those leggings. I need to start eating less. And these thoughts were happening with alarming frequency in the brain of a woman who had always assumed she felt great in her body.

Practicing mindfulness helped me shift my relationship to these painful thoughts. I started to notice them as they occurred. Instead of automatically believing them, as I had been doing for years, I learned to recognize them for what they were: sad thoughts cultivated through years of exposure to unhealthy messages about my weight and body. Not the truths I had come to understand them to be.With this shift in my awareness, now when these thoughts appeared, I would notice them, gently let them pass, like clouds in the sky, instead of following them down a rabbit hole of other thoughts and feelings that left me feeling disconnected and upset with my body.I cultivated a greater sense of gratitude for the miraculous body I was given and developed awe for what was happening within and beneath my skin. I began to observe my body in motion- grateful for the simple (or not so simple) acts of being able to walk, run, stretch. I was gentler with how I handled my physical self in such acts as applying moisturizer to my face. I focused on being healthy rather than ‘skinny.’ I looked deeply into my own eyes (on occasion) and affirmed how much I loved myself.All of these practices are beautiful and helped to a great extent. I gained tremendous self-awareness of the degree of negative chatter occurring in my mind about my physical appearance and learned to both detach from the thoughts and create healthier, more gratitude-based thinking about my body- both the external and internal aspects.But curating positive thoughts without action has its limitations. Though I was learning to observe my thoughts instead of being swept away by them, I was still having them. A lot. Much of the perpetuation of these thoughts had to do with a pesky little device that lay in the corner of my bathroom. You got it. My scale. 

You see, when we invest energy in practicing mindfulness and self-development, yet still engage in unhealthy behavioral rituals (for me, weighing myself daily), then we are still reinforcing old, unhealthy beliefs. In my case, these beliefs were the overemphasis of my weight, and what I interpreted this to mean about myself.

And then came a point not that long ago where I had had enough. It was time to take action against these uncomfortable judgments. At that time, my daughter was 4 and I didn’t want to perpetuate the culture of poor body image that I had grown up with. I didn’t want her to have a mother who would weigh herself and then mutter something rude to herself about that number. (Even though she had never actually witnessed this, children pick up on subliminal things.) I needed to take steps to develop a truly loving, respectful relationship with my body.

Source: 'tmcphotos/Shutterstock'

For my sake, and for hers, I decided it was time I broke up with my scale.Now for full transparency, we actually broke up once, got back together briefly, and then had a final breakup. The first time we broke up, I must admit, I asked my husband to take the scale away. Hide it from me so I wouldn’t be tempted to sneak in a visit. And he obliged, put it away in what he thought was a clever hiding space.That worked for a few days. Then I noticed the creeping curiosity slink in and trick me with its masked logic. What did I weigh? My pesky thoughts would say. Is having my scale away affecting my weight at all? As a researcher, shouldn’t I have access to this data? (Did you catch that irony there?) And so, I’m embarrassed to say, I searched and found it, took it back out in its grey metallic glory, and resumed my daily habit.

I quickly caught my lapse, and this time, put the scale away myself. I didn’t need fancy tricks or someone else to take responsibility for getting me to get healthier with my body. No. That obligation fell squarely on my shoulders. If I was going to learn to feel better about myself, that duty was mine and mine alone. So, away the scale went.

Not weighing myself was not a magical fix. But, I noticed a lightness, a freeness. I no longer engaged in the daily judgment or self-flagellation that came with gaining a pound (or conversely, the celebratory feelings of accomplishment when I had lost a pound). I enjoyed my food more because I wasn’t thinking in the back of my mind about how what I was eating would affect my weight- because I knew I wouldn’t be hopping on the scale the next morning. It was easier to slow down and savor what was going in my mouth because I was limiting the immediate association I had formed between what I ate and my weight.When I ate, I asked myself more often, what is my body craving, and learned to pay better attention to my cues when I was full. I noticed I really didn’t feel that good when I ate late at night, and would try and curb that impulse- not because I was afraid of what the scale would say, but because I was tuning in to what my body was saying.  I began to pay attention to my body and trust it in a way that the flashing number only diminished.

With the scale away, the mindless, daily act of weighing myself is no longer an option. When I feel the urge, I work through it with counteracting worry thoughts with healthier, grounded ones. I remind myself that my self-worth, and physical health for that matter, go far deeper than the number on any scale. I remind myself that I am keeping myself healthy with eating well, physical exercise and meditation, which are better indicators of health than weight. (Of course, check in with your medical provider if there is a medical reason for keeping your scale around).

If you feel weighted down by your scale (pun intended), and think a break up may be helpful, try doing it this way: Thank the scale for whatever it has offered you. Then recognize it for what is: a mechanical device designed to give you a number. Nothing more, nothing less. Reassure yourself that you are capable of taking it from here as you focus on building a stronger, healthier relationship with your body.  And then, set the scale aside, and allow yourself to feel lighter and more empowered as you step into greater self-worth.